


bella gerant alii

by flyingtothemoon



Category: Figure Skating RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Royalty, Angst, Arranged Marriage, Minor Character Death, Multi, Politics, author only knows one (1) genre, not really a romance, yuzu deserves better im sorry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-21
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-16 16:15:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29578740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flyingtothemoon/pseuds/flyingtothemoon
Summary: Yuzuru was only eleven when he decided that he would never marry. He knew what happened to people in marriages. His mother’s fate was testament enough.
Relationships: Javier Fernández & Yuzuru Hanyu, Yuzuru Hanyu/Keiji Tanaka
Comments: 6
Kudos: 8





	bella gerant alii

**Author's Note:**

> somebody take away my rights jdsklfjdsklfjsd
> 
> disclaimer: this is a work of pure fiction and has zero relation to real life. please heed the tags!

_bella gerant alii, tu felix Austria nube_

a phrase long emblematic of Hapsburg dynastic power: let others wage war; you, happy Austria, marry

* * *

They locked him in his room on the day of the execution. It was probably intended as an act of kindness, but the truth was Yuzuru hadn’t seen his mother in months. When she was first arrested and taken away, anything bearing her image was also stripped from the walls and removed. Her portraits, set aflame. Then they started to acquisition her other belongings — her jewels, her dresses, her collection of beautifully illuminated manuscripts that he loved to flip through and admire.

Bit by bit, people stopped speaking her name. It became as if she’d never existed. The only proof that a woman named Yumi ever walked these halls was Yuzuru himself, and the emptiness left behind in his heart. He was quite sure that they’d make him disappear too, if they could.

Denying him one last chance to see her was nothing but a cruelty.

He knew, in theory, what an execution was comprised of. Prayers, jeering, _blood_. Death. But like any child, Yuzuru failed to grasp just what it is those words meant when he snuck out between guard changes. In his naïveté, he remembered the dignified set of her shoulders and the quiet solemnity of her expression when they accosted her before the whole court. He could do the same, he thought. He could look on his mother’s face one more time with courage, and commit it to memory before he can forget.

These childish musings were crushed the instant he came upon the execution crowd. The mob had been gathering since the early morning, and was now a sea of people. There were farmers, smiths still wearing their tanner skins, tavern wenches, inn keepers: normal people, transmogrified into a monstrous being.

Nothing he’d vowed to himself earlier could withstand the wave of bloodlust as it crested.

_Whore! Witch! Heretic! Brother-fucker!_

Accusation piled on top of accusation. No one really knew — or cared, at this point — what evil she was charged with doing. It was thrilling, irresistibly appealing, to see a once-queen brought so low. Suddenly, Yuzuru was filled with an overwhelming urge to get away. He couldn’t do this. He wanted to cry. But the press of bodies against his back kept him in place.

Finally, his mother was led out onto the raised, wooden platform erected in the centre of the square. She wore a plain, linen dress, despoiled by mud stains; her hair was pulled back in a modest style and covered with a cap. He almost did not recognize her. With alarm, Yuzuru realized that he could not see her face. He was too far away.

“Do you admit your crimes?”

The woman did not utter a sound.

“Speak!”

Still, she remained silent.

The gaoler leaned in to whisper something poisonous in her ear. Only then did she lift her head and declare in a clear, resonant voice:

“Only God can judge me. And make no mistake, He will judge me, just as He will judge you.”

As she said the last part, she turned to look at the gaoler. He spat at her feet.

Two men grabbed her arms and lowered her down to the chopping block. Yuzuru felt numb. The crowd’s excitement rose to a fever-pitch.

Yuzuru wanted to close his eyes, knew that he should look away now, but a morbid enchantment had taken hold, and he could not tear his gaze from the platform.

The headman raised his sword. It made no sound as it cut through the air, and the head was separated from the body in one merciful blow.

Then — only blood. So much blood. More blood than he’d ever thought possible.

He’d only ever seen blood in small quantities: a paper cut, or a scratch on his knee. He didn’t know how blood gushed and sprayed when a human was torn open.

Distantly, Yuzuru heard the sound of his own screaming.

_/_

Down below, in the cavernous keep below the citadel, two figures cast deep shadows on the wall. Their voices echoed and became distorted.

“It’s a relief that this bloody business is finally over.”

“Likewise. I wash my hands of it.

“Nevertheless, it’s a pity she had to go. She was one of the few here with an even head on her shoulders.”

“We could not chance her people returning.”

“Still. And either way there remains the other problem”

“That one can’t be helped. He is the King’s son, no matter his mother’s fate. Though…”

“Have you an idea?”

“Surely His Majesty would not object if he were to be sent away for a time. Somewhere the eyes of the court cannot follow.”

“Your heart is cold, my friend.”

They ascended the stair.

/

For a moment, when he woke in his own bed, Yuzuru let himself believe it had all been but a night terror. Then he felt the ache in his throat, and the memories began rushing back. He remembered the swell of people, the stink of manure mixed with trodden mud, and then screaming, and screaming, and screaming until his voice was hoarse.

He spread out on his bed and felt the silk underneath his fingers. It was cold. He closed his eyes again and tried to recall. What happened after?

“That was a foolish thing to do.”

The voice came from his left.

_Daisuke._

“You’re fortunate they brought you to me, and not Father. Actually, you ought to say your thanks that the mob didn’t recognize you. They would’ve torn you to shreds too, you know.”

Yuzuru knew he was supposed to say something here — an apology, probably — but in truth he felt too ashamed, too _stupid_ , to speak.

Daisuke’s tone turned a shade more serious.

“You need to watch yourself, little brother. Things are going to be more complicated from now on. Surely I don’t have to explain why.”

Though they only shared one parent, Daisuke always insisted on calling him ‘brother’. It probably made him feel like they stood on even ground, despite the fact that Daisuke was nineteen — a product of the first marriage — and the heir apparent, while Yuzuru was now a bastard in all but name.

“I know,” he murmured quietly. “I know.”

Yuzuru wasn’t a child prone to anger. Though he felt every emotion strongly, he was the untroubled kind of soul who let things go easily. Not this time, he thought.

“I _hate_ him… I hate him so much”

Daisuke sucked in a sharp breath. “Yuzuru!” He admonished.

A hand grabbed him roughly by the jaw, and wrenched his face to the left. He kept his gaze fixed downwards. Daisuke’s grip was so tight it hurt.

“Yuzuru, _look at me._ ”

Daisuke didn’t scare him, not really, but he knew better than to disobey. Reluctantly, he raised his eyes. The face that he saw was marred by fear.

“Listen to me, Yuzuru. Never, _ever_ let anyone else hear you say that.”

He nodded quickly, eager to get to the end of this.

“Tell me you understand,” he demanded. "Say it!" 

There was something manic in Daisuke’s voice.

“I— I understand,” Yuzuru managed to gasp out.

Daisuke released him and sagged. A moment of silence passed, during which the grief Yuzuru had buried away finally emerged. She was _gone_. He would never see her smile again — he was already starting to forget what it looked like. What her voice sounded like. Tears appeared in his eyes.

“But I…" he whispered. "I thought he loved her.”

This time, when Daisuke spoke again, his voice was much softer than before.

“Oh Yuzuru,” he said. “One day you will understand. Love is a fickle thing; it comes and it goes. You cannot rely on it.”

Then he sat down on the bed beside him and pulled him into a deep hug. Come this point, Yuzuru was crying uncontrollably in soft, hiccuping bursts. His hands grasped at the man’s tunic as he searched desperately for the comfort that he had not felt in so many months.

“Even if he no longer loved her, why… _why_ …”

Daisuke stepped in: “I don’t know, Yuzuru. I’m sorry. I wish I could say. All I know is that sometime in these last ten years, Father’s love soured. And in marriages, women pay the price when a man’s love dries up.”

Yuzuru buried his face even deeper into his embrace.

“Then I shall _never_ marry.”

His half-brother chuckled in amusement.

“Alright.”

But Yuzuru was somber, and entirely genuine.

“As long as I live, I will not marry. I _swear_ it.”

**Author's Note:**

> let me know your thoughts! <3 i welcome & appreciate all feedback (even if you just want to yell at me for. this)


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